


Q'pid's Arrow

by Silly_Tilly



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: Abusive Relationships (Past), Eve is a menace, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Oblivious Q, Obsession, Pining, Q's having a bad day, Suicidal thoughts (brief), Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, but also a bit Stalkery, friendships, james is a good friend, not as dark as it sounds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-06 01:19:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17930030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silly_Tilly/pseuds/Silly_Tilly
Summary: If you asked most of the people that knew James Bond what he was like, they would tell you that he was ruthless, cold, emotionless and he used people.  Only a few people understood that the coldness belied a maelstrom of emotion. That those who James really cared for became a consuming passion to him.  Those people who had won his devotion had won him completely.Bond could number all the people he had ever cared for on the fingers of one hand, and those who survived on a single finger. Maybe it was telling that the sole survivor of James’ consuming passion was unaware of his elevated position, happily oblivious to the deadly agent's obsession.





	1. Chapter One - Bond

Bond assessed the blond man with professional detachment. He obviously took care of himself and certainly made the most of his muscled physique in a tight white t-shirt that stretched across his stomach, showing the outline of his toned six-pack. Out of habit his eyes ran over the man’s body looking for the tell-tale bulge that would indicate a concealed weapon, before he checked himself. This wasn’t a mission; the man wouldn’t be carrying. Although, Bond considered, you can never be too careful. To Bond’s practiced eyes the man was clearly older than his clothes and demeanour belied. His eyes were lined and his brow slightly wrinkled. Still he was undoubtedly attractive if you liked that sort of thing, not Bond’s type though. Bond preferred a more delicate countenance in his partners, a fragility that made Bond want to protect his lovers as much as he wanted to break them apart. Not to mention that despite a certain amount of flexibility in the field, and the very occasional personal divergence, Bond’s type was almost always female.

Bond had watched as the man had approached Bond’s target. He had slid into the seat next to the mark, bent his dirty-blond head towards the dark-haired younger man, and whispered something in his ear. The younger man turned his face towards him and smiled, nodding at him and accepting the bottle of drink that was pushed towards him.

Half an hour later Bond was still watching the pair from his obscured position in one of the many booths available in the dingy bar. Nursing a sub-par glass of cheap scotch, he was drowning his sorrow perhaps.

Bond liked to collect beautiful things, and the object of Bond’s current obsession was certainly beautiful, and delicate and so fucking desirable. It was almost definitely a bad idea to get involved, Bond reminded himself, but then when had Bond ever let that stop him? Q had intrigued him long before he had a made the choice to follow Q home from MI6 and stake out his flat. Bond had waited unseen until Q emerged, dressed casually in jeans and a black t-shirt with a geeky logo, eyes delicately outlined in charcoal eyeliner. He looked million miles away from his usual buttoned down work attire, and it served to accentuate how pale and slim the Quartermaster was. He looked beautiful, and Bond wanted him for his collection. Bond rebuked himself severely for his invasion of Q’s privacy even as he tailed Q to a local bar and slipped into one of the booths which long experience told him would offer the most cover.

As Bond watched Q, the Blond stranger stood and hooked his fingers into Q’s belt hook, drawing the younger man towards him until his muscled body was pressed along the length of Q’s lean frame. Q lent into the blond man as he whispered into his ear. Then they were moving, the Blond pulling Q along by his hand as they exited the bar, probably back to Q’s flat or, if Bond thought about it clearly, more likely the stranger’s home where there wouldn’t be anything compromising to Q. Q was certainly not an idiot.

Sighing deeply Bond emptied his glass, feeling the burn of the amber liquid on his tongue and throat. His eyes roamed the bar and he selected a pretty, youngish man with a passing resemblance to Q, whose eyes kept drifting with a smile, towards Bond, even as he chatted happily with his friends. With all his charm and a tilt of his head, Bond summoned the younger man towards him, putting an arm around his waist and pulling him against his taut body. He bent his head and told the boy exactly what he was going to do to him if he would come home with him, exactly how he was going to take him apart, and all the while he imagined it was Q pressed against him, Q’s posh voice whispering dirty words into Bond’s ear.

***

The first time that Bond met Q he had been too shocked at how young his new Quartermaster looked to have the presence of mind to scrutinize him. MI6 had taken its time recruiting after the sudden loss of the previous Q, an older man, somewhat stuck in his ways. Thank god for R who had attempted to drag him into the present with some limited successes. R had managed the department well enough in the absence of a replacement Quartermaster, but she was in over her head really, and he had heard from Moneypenny that she had been relieved when the position was finally filled. After that he had been too caught up in the mission to spend much time feeling anything other than grateful for Q’s calm competence under stress. Then there had been the enforced down time after M’s death, and he hadn’t felt much of anything except his own grief and self-recrimination.

Therefore, he didn’t see Q again for several months following the Skyfall incident, and it wasn’t until he was returning the remains of his Q-branch issued equipment following a successful return to the field, that it occurred to him how strikingly beautiful his Quartermaster was and decided to ask him out for a drink, which Q politely but firmly refused.

Q for his part remained nothing less than 100% professional with Bond and despite the subtle attentions that Bond began to bestow on him he never responded in kind. Bond naturally assumed Q was depressingly straight and never escalated beyond mild flirting, and of course staring at Q’s pert arse when Q was distracted enough not to notice. If thoughts of Q began to feature more often in Bond’s bedtime and morning routine, Bond wasn’t sharing that information with anyone.

***

Early in the morning, after the night at the bar, Bond woke with the familiar buzzing in his head that signalled the start of a hangover. His large bed was empty, and his flat was quiet, apart from the gentle hum of traffic passing outside. The enthusiastic young man from last night was thankfully absent having been delicately exited following the evening’s activities. Bond hadn’t bothered to remember his name or get his phone number. The sex had been enjoyable enough while it was happening, but the whole thing left him feel hollow and dirty. Funny, James Bond was no stranger to casual sex, on and off the job, usually it had a cathartic effect on him, allowing him to focus his mind. Never had it caused him any measure of guilt. He vaguely wondered where Q had woken up this morning, provoking a flare of jealousy followed by a facepalm moment as he considered how deep he was gone for his Quartermaster.

***

“What do you know about Q?” Bond asked Moneypenny. It was maybe 3 months since Bond had offered to take Q for a drink and been turned down. 3 months in which Bond’s interest in the young Quartermaster had gone from an emerging attraction to a full on ‘follow him home from work’ obsession.  
  
“Not much,” Moneypenny studied Bond with a quizzical expression. “Why do you want to know?”

“We have to work together, and I like to know what I’m dealing with. If I’m going to trust my life in someone hands I want to know as much as I can about them, otherwise I’m likely to get shot in the back,” he paused “or the shoulder.”

“Jesus James are you ever going to let that go?” Eve laughed, taking the jibe in good part.

“Not until I’ve had my ‘Money’s’ worth, Moneypenny” he teased coming up behind her, and placing his hands gently on her shoulders.

“Q doesn’t share much about himself, and a lot of information about his life is classified beyond my clearance, not that I’ve checked or anything. He’s brilliant though, IQ around 145, if you pay attention to such things.”

“Anything else?”

“He’s got a cat.” Bond spun Eve around in her chair to face him and gave her a quizzical look. “Sometimes he has cat hairs on his cardigan.” Eve expanded defensively.

Bond laughed “Could be his girlfriend’s cat.”

“Don’t be silly James, Q doesn’t have a girlfriend. He did have a boyfriend, but they broke up a few weeks ago. Oh, do close your mouth,” she reprimanded as Bond spluttered. “I wouldn’t have taken you for the homophobic type”.

Bond shook his head at her. “I’m not, you know me. How do you know about the boyfriend, I heard getting personal information out of Q was like getting blood out of a stone?”

“He doesn’t share much, it’s true, but I might have overheard him asking M for time off and explaining why he needed to look for a new flat. Actually, I tried to set him up with a friend of mine, journalist on a tech magazine, would have been perfect for him. Moneypenny paused as if she wasn’t sure about what she was about to say. “Do you think there is something to worry about?” she settled on.

“No,” Bond replied, “As I said, I just like to know what I can, and you’re the one that knows everything that goes on in MI6.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. You’re not the only one pumping me for info on poor Q though. I think Fuller has got it pretty bad for him. He’s not subtle about it either, poor Q” Eve chuckled.

“0011?” Bond raised his eyebrows at Moneypenny, “I wouldn’t have thought Q was quite young enough for his tastes.”

“You can be such a cat when you like James.”

“I just don’t like the man, he gives me the creeps.” Bond shuddered at the thought of 0011 letching over Q. “Urg.”

“I see.” Eve looked Bond straight in the eye, and Bond wondered just how much she did see.

***

“Q, why won’t you go for a drink with me?”

Bond was in South Africa on a mission, currently being pursued by several hulking bodyguards belonging to the drug lord whose demise had been the mission objective.

“What?” ejaculated Q, spitting his tea out across his desk. “Damn it, Bond, you better not have ruined my keyboard!.” He had been was rather distracted trying to determine the best extraction route for Bond, hopefully one which was the least likely to raise suspicion from the almost certainly corrupt local officials.

Bond laughed, “I asked you for a drink and you turned me down, I want to know why, my fragile ego is bruised.”

“I’m a bit busy trying to yank your arse out of the fire at the moment Bond, couldn’t you have been more discrete, this was supposed be a quiet kill?”

“I was discrete,” Bond sounded like petulant teenager.

“On what planet is gate-crashing a wedding and shooting one of the guests as he was making his toast, discrete?” Q’s exasperated sigh came through Bonds ear piece.

“That seems fairly discrete for me. Hey, at least all my equipment is in good working order Q.” Bond chucked to himself at the double entendre.

“You’re a child Bond” Q chided, “anyway you’re not back on British soil yet, there’s still plenty of time for you to wreck it yet.” Q was speaking from long months of experience with 00 agents.

“You’re changing the subject Q. Why won’t you go for a drink with me?”

“Well, firstly I don’t socialise with colleagues and secondly, I definitely don’t socialise with double-ohs who have psychopathic tendencies.”

“Oh Q, you wound me!”

Q decided he would relent, after all that was quite harsh. “When you asked me, I had a boyfriend who didn’t like me going out without him, even for a friendly drink with a bloke from work, he would have been jealous, and it wasn’t worth the hassle.”

“He sounds just lovely,” Bond was quiet for a moment “You broke up with him?”

“Yes, he was suspicious of the long hours I was working. It came to a head when I spent three full days here while you were on mission in Turkey. He thought I was cheating on him, and since he thought I worked for a governmental IT help desk, there was no way of explaining to him why my job kept me here until the early hours. He didn’t trust me, and he tried to stop me leaving our apartment, with force. That was obviously the end of that relationship.”

“Shit Q!” Bond’s blood was boiling at the thought of anyone putting a finger on Q. There was silence over the comms for seconds stretching into minutes while Bond considered exactly what he would like to do to Q’s ex. Eventually Bond realised there had been a serious lapse in the conversation and started to get concerned that Q had abandoned him following his revelation.

“Q?” he asked into the silence “Are you alright?”

“Sorry Bond, I didn’t mean to unload on you, that was extremely unprofessional of me.”

“Don’t mention it. How about you get me out of here and we can discuss it over a drink?”

“That’s exactly what I was trying to achieve before you distracted me.” Q was silent for the next few minutes “Bond? Right, the CIA have an operative in the area who will help extract you. Code name Celeste, sending you the details now."

***

“Q!” Bond strode into Q-branch like he owned it.  Almost all the female technicians as well as several of the male technicians gawped after him until they caught Q glaring at them and quickly scuttled back to what they were doing. “Here to return my equipment.” Bond handed over his earpiece, his gun his prototype multi-function smart watch, making sure to subtly graze his fingers across the quartermaster’s palm as he handed them over.

“All in one piece,” said Q staring at them with something akin to amazement. “This must be a first, keep this up and I might trust you with some of our more advanced tech.” Q moved from his desk replace the returned equipment into the safe in his office. Bond took the opportunity to quickly check out Q’s tight bum before quickly snapping his eyes up as Q turned back to face him.

“Have you been holding out on me?” Bond recovered himself. “I hope you haven’t been giving 006 all the best gear. Rumour is he’s your favourite.”

“Don’t be ridiculous 007. I’m a professional, I don’t have favourites, and anyway if I did it wouldn’t be 006, he’s almost as bad as you.”

“No one is as bad as me.” Bond smirked, pleased with himself.

“That’s not something to be proud of.” Q looked at Bond severely before breaking into a smile. “Tell you what, you bring your equipment back without a scratch a few more times and I’ll officially declare you my favourite.” Q winked at him.

Encouraged by Q’s good mood, Bond decided to take the plunge “Challenge Accepted, now I think you owe me a drink. No one waiting up for you at home is there?”

“Low blow Bond.” Q said without malice. “Rain check? I’ve got so much I need to get done here the pubs will no doubt be shut when I’m done. You agents don’t even consider how much extra work you cause me when you drive small countries to civil war.”

“Ah,” Bond agreed “I heard the lovely 004 shagged a dictator so enthusiastically his heart gave out. Unfortunately, she doesn’t mix work and pleasure, well apart from the obvious.” Bond chuckled” So I’ve never, erm, had the honour.”

“Old Charvon wasn’t even the target, he was fairly benign as despots go. She was trying to get close to his nephew. He’s been selling guns to local rebels under his dearly departed Uncle’s rather oversized nose.” Q sighed “so I have that whole mess to sort out before the whole area destabilises and takes one of our main strategic airports with it.”

“Wow, I’m exhausted just thinking about it,” Bond teased. “I’ll hold you to that rain-check, see you later Q.”

***

In lieu of Q’s company, Bond resorted to the next best thing and took Moneypenny out for a meal at one of her favourite restaurants, a Thai place, where Eve liked to order the hottest dishes on the menu and devour them without flinching. Bond liked to joke that Eve was ‘the one that got away’ after a close shave in Macau, but in truth she was as close to a friend as Bond had, and although he flirted incessantly with her and she with him, they both felt at ease in each other’s company. Once they had both made their menu selection and Eve had ordered herself a bottle of red wine, Eve eyed Bond slyly.

“I heard something very interesting today.” Eve’s eyes were alight with the need to gossip

“Oh?” Bond was less than enthusiastic in his response. He knew from experience that Eve was unstoppable when she had something that she considered juicy.

“Don’t be so dour James, you’re going to be very interested in this, it involves Q.” Bond continued to browse the wine menu, feigning indifference. “Apparently one of the double-ohs propositioned him out, but you wouldn’t know anything about that I’m guessing.”

“Did Q tell you this?” Bond asked. He was surprised. Q didn’t seem like the type to kiss and tell. Or not kiss and tell in this instance.

“No not Q, he’s not the sharing type, but my spies are everywhere. I’m fairly sure I have more spies than MI6.” Eve was on starting on her second glass of wine and enjoying herself immensely. “This explains why you were trying to find out what I know about him the other day, you fancy him!” They were interrupted at that point, by a waiter bringing over their starter. Eve glared at him and he slunk away guiltily.

“Eve stop terrifying the staff,” Bond admonished. “They’re only doing their job.” He was a touch annoyed with her for her glee at his discomfort at her outcry.

“There’s more.” Despite himself Bond lent in as she lowered her voice. His interest piqued. “After you were done with Q, 0011 made a pass at him." Bond was all ears now. “Don’t worry darling, Q turned him down too, but 0011 didn’t take it as well as you. He got a bit physical with Q, which was stupid considering Q is surrounded with firearms most of the time. Fuller took a bullet to his bicep and ended up in M’s office before getting carted off to medical. I don’t think we’ll be seeing him anytime soon. Good thing Q can look after himself.”

“Shit, Is Q okay?” Bond was feeling the familiar adrenaline that usually came with acquiring his target. “If I see Fuller any time soon I’m going to put a bullet somewhere much more critical than his arm,” Bond fumed.

Eve shrugged “Seems like Q can look after himself.” She drained her glass and attacked her starter with relish.

***

It was past midnight when Bond got back to his flat. He’d been a perfect gentleman and ensured Eve had made it home safely before hailing a black cab to get himself home. Even after half a bottle of scotch, his blood still boiled when he thought about 0011 trying to force himself on Q. His mind was not on alert as he disabled the security and entered his darkened living room. Pulling his tie from his neck he moved wearily towards his bedroom, flipping on the light ready to sink into his bed.

Someone had beaten him home. A figure sat unmoving on his bed in the darkness. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the light and for Bond to see who had invaded his home. A few seconds in which his training kicked in and Q found himself with the barrel of 007's gun pressed into the centre of his forehead. He didn’t move or speak, he just looked at Bond.

As soon as Bond realised his mistake he holstered his gun and examined the man in front of him. Bond had never seen him like this, Q was a mess. He was shaking all over, and Bond didn’t think that had anything to do with his recent action. Q had been crying, his face was wet from tears and his eyes were rimmed red. His nose ran down his face and Q was making no move to wipe it. His clothes were torn, his skin had deep scratches where the fabric gaped, and he was covered in blood. Too much blood for it all be his own.

“Help me.”


	2. Chapter Two - Q

A shrill ringing roused the Quartermaster from his deep sleep.  He turned his head to look at the green neon numbers on his bedside clock.  03:24 the clock read, in large digits, visible even without his glasses. It was far too early to be his alarm, a phone then, he deduced.  One thin pale arm emerged from beneath the quilt reaching for the mobile phone on the nightstand. 

“Yes,” Q mumbled into the handset sleepily. 

He froze as he recognised the voice on the other end of the line. “Twiggy,” it shouted. Suddenly Q was fully awake, adrenaline pumping through his body. 

“Don’t call me that.” Q hated the nickname, a play on his real name, which his ex-partner had devised to make Q feel insecure about his physical build in comparison to his more muscular boyfriend. Another tactic to keep him in his place. “What the hell do you want Brandon?” 

“Aww don’t be like that baby bear, I’m on my way over to see you.” Brandon slurred drunkenly down the phone.  “I’m gonna make it all up to you I swear.” 

“Listen carefully.” Q hissed into the phone.  “You come anywhere near me again and I _will_ get the police involved this time.” He ended the call and threw his mobile against the wall with feeling.  He got a grim sense of satisfaction when he heard the glass shatter on impact. 

An hour later Q was still shaking, with anger and fear, his mind circling around half formed thoughts.  Sleep was impossible. Eventually around 5am he gave up and got into the shower.  He would be at work stupidly early again, but everyone was used to him keeping odd hours, so it would probably go unnoticed.

 ***

At 6:30 exactly he entered MI6 and made his way down to Q-branch.  He nodded to the few night staff who were on duty as he passed.  R was at her desk, talking one of the agents through their mission. She smiled at him warmly and gave him a wave as he passed her office door. 

Entering his office Q closed the door behind him.  During the day Q usually left his door open. When it was closed everyone knew not to disturb him.  Behind Q’s desk was the safe where he stored the 00 agent’s weapons and gadgets when they were not on a mission.  The safe was coded to Q’s palm print.  Q pressed his hand against the safe and surveyed the equipment inside.  Choosing a small 9mm pistol he closed the safe and set to work recoding the palm print recognition on the gun to match his own.  Once finished he slipped the gun into his messenger bag.  He was breaking countless regulations, but the phone call in the night had scared him more than he wanted to admit. 

Having satisfied himself that had done what he could to protect himself, Q made himself a mug of Earl Grey and set to work on his never-ending pile of (mostly digital) paperwork. 

*** 

Q finally got around to typing up his report on Bond’s latest mission just after lunch.  He was being slightly creative with the transcript of their conversation over comms, no one needed to know about his indiscretion.  It was very unlike him to share anything personal with a work college, and Bond had to be one of the worse choices he could have made, but he’d had a tough time recently. The strain was starting to show itself in little things, like small errors in his coding, or spelling mistakes in his reports. Q hated it, he prided himself at being good at his job and professionally detached.

Glancing up at a noise across the room he saw the man himself swaggering in his direction.  He reflected briefly how Bond was almost exactly his type, blond, muscled, chiselled, and, Q reminded himself, deeply damaged with a tendency towards violence to solve problems. Definitely Q’s type then, judging by his past relationships. Although Q was resolutely making better choices now after a stern talking to himself. That included no relationships for a while, until he could trust himself.  It couldn’t hurt to look though.  

A quick glance around the room confirmed that over half of Q-branch were having similar thoughts. They might as well have their tongues hanging out, making panting noises like dogs. Q glared at them in as professional a manner as he could muster.  He tried to give off a ‘get back to work’ vibe and was rewarded with several guilty looks as his minions returned to their projects. 

“Q!” Bond arrived at Q’s desk, looking 100% fuckable. “Here to return my equipment.” Bond motioned slightly towards his gun and his tech. Q nodded and held out his hand wordlessly. 

Bond handed over his equipment and accidentally grazed Q’s hand, sending shockwaves through his body. “All in one piece” managed Q, as he tried to compose himself.  God knows what expression was on his face. “This must be a first, keep this up and I might trust you with some of our more advanced tech”.  The after effect of 007 touching him had gone straight to his groin and he was reminded that it had been over a week since he’d got laid.  A small lapse in his new resolution, which had led to him picking up that stranger in that bar. 

Q turned away from Bond to compose himself, using the obvious excuse of replacing Bond’s equipment back into the safe.  When he had regained his self-control, he turned back to the agent noticing as he did that Bond’s eyes flicked quickly upwards from his groin.  Oh shit, had Bond noticed Q’s inappropriate response? 

“Have you been holding out on me.” Bond’s tone was teasing, but Q froze, Bond _had_ noticed. “I hope you haven’t been giving 006 all the best gear. Rumour is he’s your favourite.” Oh, thank God, Bond was only taking about his tech, probably. 

“Don’t be ridiculous 007.  I’m a professional, I don’t have favourites, and anyway if I did it wouldn’t be 006, he’s almost as bad as you.” Q was pleased with how calm he sounded. 

“No one is as bad as me.”

Well, that tore it. Q almost melted into a puddle on the floor, he was such a sucker for a bad man, _literally_ , and he was fairly sure 007 was flirting with him.  Q was well aware that Bond could flirt with a cucumber if the mood took him, but even so Q was only human, and he couldn’t help himself responding in kind.

“That’s not something to be proud of.” Q grinned at him mischievously. “Tell you what, you bring your equipment back without a scratch a few more times and I’ll officially declare you my favourite.” He winked brazenly.

“Challenge Accepted!” Bond responded enthusiastically. 007 was never one to take a direct challenge lying down. “Now I think you owe me a drink.  No one waiting up for you at home is there?”

Q briefly wondered if Bond was attempting to find out whether he was still single. Eventually he put it down to wishful thinking on his part. 007 was probably just referring to the conversation over comms, when Q had indiscreetly told Bond about his bad breakup.

“Low blow Bond” Q said, a lack of any other comment coming to mind.  As much as Q would have loved to extend his time with Bond, the agent’s presence, mixed with his lack of sleep, was making his thoughts muddled. “Rain check?”  He scrambled for an excuse, “um, I’ve got so much I need to get done here the pubs will no doubt be shut when I’m done.  You agents don’t even consider how much extra work you cause me when you drive small countries to civil war.” That was true at least, 004 had got herself in over her head in the middle east and it was going to take hours for Q to straighten the mess out.

“Ah” Bond agreed “I heard the lovely 004 shagged a dictator so enthusiastically his heart gave out. Unfortunately, she doesn’t mix work and pleasure, well apart from the obvious, so I’ve never had the honour”

There was that too.  Bond was a well-known lady’s man, and although Q had heard rumours that Bond could be ‘flexible’ when it came to the job, Q was sure that didn’t extend to bespectacled nerds in brown cardigans. Q took a deep breath, pulled himself together and focused on the job at hand. He took the opportunity to discuss work with Bond in effort to refocus himself.

“Wow, I’m exhausted just thinking about” Bond eventually sighed.  On reflection 007 looked as tired as Q felt, not surprising since the agent was just off a mission. “I’ll hold you to that rain-check, see you later Q,” and he was gone.  Striding across the room like he owned the whole world (and not just Q’s heart).

***

“R tells me you were a very early bird this morning.” Moneypenny waltzed into Q’s office and slammed a report on his desk.  “Files you wanted on Charvon, M sent them.” Eve raised her eyebrows. “What’s wrong with you, you look like shit.”

“Didn’t get much sleep” mumbled Q, most of his effort focused on the delicate hack he was currently undertaking. 

“I hope whoever was keeping you up was worth it.”  Eve’s eyes were glittering the way they only did when she suspected she’d sniffed out something juicy.  “You’re going to make 007 and 0011 very jealous if they find out.”

“Nothing like that Moneypenny, just a touch of insomnia.” Q focused his attention back on his laptop.  Eve waited, tapping her nails on his desk expectantly. “Wait.” Moneypenny’s words filtered into his conscious. “007?”

Eve’s face lit up with a grin as Q realised he fallen straight into her trap. “Oh, Bond was _very_ interested in what I knew about you.” She winked at Q. “He wasn’t happy at all when I told him 0011 had been asking all about you too.” And with that she turned on her stiletto heals and sashayed out of his office.  “Buh-bye Q, enjoy your report.”

 ***

By 4 o’clock in the afternoon Q had switched from tea to coffee and deserted his mound of paperwork from fear of being found asleep by his minions, perhaps drooling on his keyboard. He was in the middle of wiping the coding from Bond’s returned equipment so that it would be ready to code to the next agent that needed it.  Just as it dawned on him that he was so tired he hadn’t even run through standard safety protocol and checked the gun was empty before handling it, he found 0011 was looming over him. He put the gun down on his desk and stood up.  At his full height he was only an inch shorter than the agent but give 0011 an inch and he would take a mile. “Fuller, what can I do for you?” He sighed, annoyed at the interruption.

Q would have like to have avoided an encounter with 0011 altogether. A few weeks past he had discovered some disturbing information in a routine background check on the agent.  Q had diligently reported what he found in his standard quarterly agent report and thought no more about it. He was reminded of it now, seeing 0011 in the flesh.

“Q” Fuller moved towards him as Q unconsciously backed away, until Q’s back hit the desk, the larger man pressing against him to pin him there. Fuller leant forward until his mouth was against Q’s ear, as Q repressed a shudder. “You’re coming home with me tonight.” He whispered.

Q was proud of himself that he kept his outward calm, while flickers of anxiety leapt at his chest. “As flattered as I am 0011, I’m going to have to respectfully decline.” Fuller pulled back from Q and stared him in the face for a beat. The quartermaster refused to flinch, he’d had enough of being pushed around by bullies.

“Wrong answer, Quartermaster.” Fuller’s arm shot up and his hand grasp around Q’s neck squeezing enough for Q’s vision to start greying at the edges.  As he struggled for his breath Q’s hand scrabbled around on the desk behind him until he felt the cool metal of the recently decoded gun.  Squeezing his eyes shut he raised the gun and shot blindly.  The pressure on his neck released suddenly as Q blacked out and sunk to the floor.

***

 “I can’t apologise enough Q.” Mallory looked uncharacteristically shaken.  “Needless to say, Fuller has been relieved of his post effective immediately, and will be handed over to the proper authorities once he’s discharged from medical.”  Q watched numbly as M jiggled his leg up and down.  M lowered his voice, almost to a whisper.  “If I had my way he would just _disappear_.” The inverted question mark gesture looked vaguely ridiculous on the gentlemanly Mallory, but Q got the point. “However, with the investigation still active, that would be too obvious. It’s a shame you didn’t hit anything vital.” Mallory sighed.  “It would have been a clear case of self defence and that would have been that problem neatly solved.”

Q knew that M meant well, but his words stung.  Rationally he knew that he wasn’t to blame for the whole mess, but after all ‘not shooting the messenger’ was a common enough adage that some truth was buried in those words.  On top of that, Q hadn’t even had the decency to make the kill when he was presented with the perfect opportunity.  That’s why he was stuck behind a desk in Q branch, rather than out in the field.

“Go home and get some rest Q.  Take a few days if you need to.  You’re going to have one hell of a bruise.” Mallory gestured towards the red mark on Q’s neck. “Take a few days if you need to, R can look after things here.  She certainly handled the situation with Fuller well”

“Thank you, M.” Q rose from the leather arm chair and gathered his belongings before slipping out of the door with as much grace as he muster. In her adjoined office Eve was sitting at her desk lazily picking at her fingernails and watching Q with a blank stare.  “Moneypenny,” he greeted in passing.  He would bet his last cup of Earl Grey that she had been listening at M’s door.

“Goodnight Q” Eve replied, too brightly.

***

At nine o’clock Q was to be found drowning his sorrow.  Sitting at the bar nursing his second Jack Daniels, he wondered what he had done in a past life to deserve the day from Hell.  A guy across the bar was giving him _the look,_ and the alcohol and lack of sleep were lowering his defences to the point where mindless sex with reasonably hot stranger seemed like a good plan, a great plan in fact.  Q deserved a treat for the shit he’d put up with.  Q smiled at the stranger and waited expectantly. 

It didn’t take long before Q felt the warmth of another body invading his personal space.  “I’m Matt” Matt introduced himself.

“Ed” said Q, reverting to one of the clubbing aliases he had used in his younger days with worrying ease.

“Hi Ed” Matt paused and considered Q.  “Hey, feel free to tell me this is none of my business, but you need to leave him, okay?”

It took a few seconds for Q to understand what Matt was implying.  “No, it’s not.  I’m not.”  Q struggled to form his words. Not a seasoned drinker, the alcohol was having more of an effect than he had realised.  “It was an accident at work!”

The look Matt gave Q was full of pity.  “Sure, someone tried to strangle you at work, that sounds… likely.”  Matt put his hand over Q’s and Q flinched. “Do you have somewhere safe you can go?”  Q gave in and nodded mutely, wishing Matt would leave and the floor would swallow him up whole and take his embarrassment with him.  “Okay, stay safe Ed.  Maybe I’ll see you around again.”

“Sure, thanks Matt.”

Q downed the rest of his drink and headed out of the door leaving Matt’s hastily scribbled number behind on the bar.    

***

By the time Q got back to his apartment he was fantasising about a hot shower followed by snuggling up in his frankly, ridiculously comfortable king-sized bed with Egyptian cotton sheets and duck-down pillows.  Tomorrow he wouldn’t get out of bed until at least midday he decided.

He fumbled for his keys in his messenger bag, swearing as his hand rummaged against the contents without finding them.  Finally, he found them in a side pocket, cold under his fingers, and pulled them out before unlocking the door and letting himself in.

Unfortunately for Q alcohol had dulled his reactions, and he was too slow to slam the door on the Man who had let himself in behind Q and was currently blocking his exit.  In the dark with the light of the corridor behind the intruder, Q couldn’t see his face, but he would have known that build anywhere.

“Fuck” was all Q could manage as the larger man threw himself at Q and they ended up on the floor.  Q pinned down by the weight above him, as eager hands tore at him trying to divest him of his shirt and trousers. Q struggled desperately against him and in desperation he bit hard into the shoulder of his attacker, earning a snarl for his effort. Q’s reward was a punch to his abdomen, followed by an elbow to his head which left him with a ringing in his ears.  Turning his head to the side, Q saw his messenger bag on the floor next to him and, for the second time that day, Q reached for a gun.  This time Q kept his eyes open as he took the shot.

***

Hurting and covered in blood Q stumbled through London.  It was late, and the streets were quiet but not quite empty yet.  The people he passed resolutely ignored him, likely conditioned from a young age to mind their own business, not get involved, look the other way.  Q didn’t blame them, he would have probably done the same thing in their place. 

Eventually Q stood before a block of flats.  He had access to all the MI6 agent’s personal information, as well as much more information which was not on record and Q had headed for the only address he could remember.  Bond’s _real_ apartment. Security was lax, and had Q been in a better frame of mind he would have made a mental note to have words with 007 about it. 

Bond wasn’t home.  Of course he wasn’t, that was how Q’s day was going.  Not knowing what to do next, Q let himself into Bond’s flat and waited. It could have been minutes or hours that passed as Q waited, unable to bare the sight of himself covered in blood, unable to move without shaking, sobbing in the dark.

Eventually light flooded the room and Q felt a gun against his head. He was passed caring.  Let Bond shoot him, oblivion would be welcome.  Bond holstered the gun, and Q heard himself speak.

“Help me.”


End file.
